


Morning Sun

by missparker



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: Gen, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/missparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brenda offers her a wary smile. “You work with murderers long enough, one of them is bound to turn on you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I had prompt #35: Sharon wears Brenda's pajamas.

Lieutenant Flynn drops off Captain Raydor but Brenda can see the black and white outside, parked across the street. It’ll stay all night, leaving only when Flynn returns in the morning to collect Raydor. 

“Sorry for the short notice,” Flynn says. “The LAPD safe house is in use by another division.”

“This is totally unnecessary,” Sharon says, her face hard and tired. 

“You can’t go home, Sharon,” Flynn says. Brenda watches the exchange curiously. Did Lieutenant Flynn ever once in seven years call her by her first name? She can’t recall - Miss Atlanta, maybe. But never so familiar as all that. 

“It’s no trouble,” Brenda says now. “Better safe than sorry.” 

“I can just as easily stay at the office or at the hospital with Rusty,” Sharon says. 

“We’re ten minutes from the hospital,” Brenda says now. “If something happens, I’ll take you over.”

“The kid is all doped up, he’ll be out all night,” Flynn says. “Just get some rest here, okay?”

“But my condo is-”

“Not secure!” Flynn says. “Your door doesn’t even close, let alone lock and the rat bastard knows where you live. He knows where I live, he knows too much about the whole damn division.” 

“Y’all want something to drink?” Brenda asks. 

They both turn to look at her, big tired eyes and pale skin. There’s a lot going on between them that Brenda doesn’t have enough information about. Part of the reason Brenda had agreed to this was because Flynn had sounded so grave on the phone.

“No,” Sharon says tightly. “Thank you.”

“Please stay here,” Flynn says to Sharon now. “Just until morning.” 

Sharon nods, swaying a little on her feet. She’s got a big piece of gauze taped across her forehead and she’s holding her left arm up and close to her body like she’s sore through her ribs. She’s probably a little medicated, too. 

“I’m flattered to have you,” Brenda offers. “Go on, Lieutenant. I’ll call if there is trouble.” 

When he leaves, Sharon seems to run completely out of steam and turns to look at Brenda, apologies written clearly across her face.

“It’s fine,” Brenda says shortly. 

“It’s absurd,” Sharon admits. “All this trouble.”

“Someone is tryin’ to kill you,” Brenda says. “Keeping you safe is worth some trouble.” 

Sharon barks out a small, dry laugh. “And I thought I was unpopular in Internal Affairs.” 

Brenda offers her a wary smile. “You work with murderers long enough, one of them is bound to turn on you.”

They regard each other for a moment. Brenda knows she’s itching to ask just how many murderers had tried to get Brenda, but she doesn’t and won’t probably. They’re still standing in the little foyer of the small, old house. 

“Anyway,” Brenda says. “Come in. Come sit down. You must feel awful.” 

Sharon follows her into the living room, looks around at the space. The dark wooden coffee table covered with files and television remotes and a coffee mug. The overstuffed couch, the teal armchair, the little end table with the glowing lamp. None of it looks familiar. 

“Your place is nice,” Sharon says uncertainly. 

“I overpaid for it, I think, but then I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to California real estate,” Brenda says. “Can I make you some tea? I’m going to have a cup.”

Sharon nods, sinks carefully onto the sofa. 

The house is old, sectioned off into rooms by walls and hallways so when Brenda heads to the kitchen, Sharon can’t see her anymore. She can hear her, though, opening cabinet doors and then the water running in the sink. 

Brenda’s digging through one of the cabinets when Sharon shuffles in. 

“You need something else?” Brenda asks, pulling the basket of tea bags out and setting it on the counter. Sharon shakes her head no and doesn’t say anything. There’s a little table in the kitchen and Brenda points to one of the chairs and Sharon sits again. If she doesn’t want to be alone, that’s fine. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too. 

“I’m glad Rusty isn’t hurt worse than he is,” Brenda says, once the kettle is on the stove and there’s nothing left to do but wait. 

“I keep trying to give him a normal life, but he’s a magnet for trouble, I guess,” Sharon says. 

“Some people are like that,” Brenda says. “Me and you, too.”

“I didn’t used to be,” Sharon says, but Brenda doesn’t buy that, not for a moment.

“How are your ribs?” Brenda asks. Sharon looks a little surprised. 

Sharon’s body language tells Brenda everything she needs to know. 

“Kicked me when I was down,” Sharon says. “That’s how he got away. Knocked the wind right out of me and I couldn’t chase after him.” She looks down at her lap. “I wouldn’t have left Rusty anyway.” 

“They’ll get him,” Brenda says confidently, thinking of her old division. “Probably before the sun comes up.” 

“That’d be nice,” Sharon says. “I’d hate to have to move.”

She’s joking, Brenda knows, but still. “Hire movers. That’s the only way I got through it this time.”

“How long have you been here?” Sharon asks. It’s a delicate question, one designed to be benign but Brenda knows she’s fishing for information. It had been Provenza’s idea to call Brenda, to ask this strange favor. Flynn had said, “We need someone we can trust,” and Provenza had looked grave and said, “I know who to call.” 

“Almost six months,” Brenda says. “I took a temporary assignment in D.C. for a few months but didn’t want to make it permanent so I came back, bought a house.”

Left her husband, she doesn’t say. 

The kettle starts to whistle and so Brenda moves to the stove and says, “Pick a tea bag.” 

With the hot drink inside her, Sharon starts to seriously wilt. 

“I have a guest room,” Brenda says. 

“I don’t… Andy wouldn’t take me back home so I don’t have anything with me.” 

“That’s okay,” Brenda says. “I can probably scrounge you up a toothbrush.” 

Sharon nods. 

“You want to take a shower?” Brenda asks. 

“Maybe-” She clears her throat. “Maybe in the morning?”

“Okay,” Brenda says. “Just sit here a tic, lemme go find you that toothbrush.” 

When Sharon is in the bathroom - the little house just has the one - Brenda finds her something to wear to sleep in. She has plenty of pairs of pajama pants, but most are ridiculous from an objective perspective. She can’t picture Raydor in pink pajamas with little cupcakes on them. But she does have a pair of plaid ones that are kind of Christmas themed, well, green and red, and they’re a little big on her so they’ll probably fit Sharon fine. Her hips are bigger and she’s taller, too. 

She doesn’t have much in the t-shirt department but she’s got lots of tank tops so she pulls out a red one and folds the set up. Should she give her underwear too? Brenda isn’t sure she’d want to wear another woman’s underwear so she skips it, carries the folded clothing into the guestroom which is the slightly smaller room right next to Brenda’s. She leaves the clothes on the bed. It’s small, just a full but it’s a new mattress. She’d bought it hoping Charlie would come to visit. Maybe stay for a while. 

When the bathroom door opens, Brenda’s waiting in the hall. 

“I think I’ll just go to sleep,” Sharon says. 

Brenda nods. “If you need anything, just holler.” 

“I’m… thanks.” Sharon winces. “Chief Johnson.” 

“My pleasure, Captain Raydor,” Brenda says. She teasing a little because the ranks are silly and Brenda’s not the chief of anything anymore, but Sharon just nods her head and closes the bedroom door behind her. 

When Brenda puts herself to bed, she listens hard for any sound through the shared wall, but all she hears is quiet and maybe one or two creaks from the old house settling in for the night.

oooo

Brenda gets up early, showers quick, and then makes a french press full of coffee with wet hair. The electrical in the house is old and needs to be replaced. Most of the house is on a single circuit so if she plugs in too many things at once, the lights will dim and maybe a fuse blows. She boils water in the kettle and uses her french press most days so she doesn’t have to unplug the microwave all the time. 

When Sharon comes out, Brenda notices two things immediately. The pajama pants are too big on her, too, and she’s got at least three stitches in her forehead. 

“How’d you sleep?” Brenda asks trying not to look at the pale strip of skin between the waist of the pants and the bottom of the red tank top. 

Sharon crosses her arms. “Pretty good until the pain killers wore off.” 

“That’s a nasty gash. Should I have woken you up last night?”

“No concussion,” Sharon says, easing herself into one of the chairs at the table. “Just a shallow bleeder.” 

“You want some coffee?” Brenda asks. “I always make enough for a family of four.” 

“Please,” Sharon says. 

“How do you take it?” Brenda asks, pulling out a mug for her. 

“Oh,” Sharon says. “However.” 

“In an I.V.?” Brenda asks and Sharon smiles. 

Brenda makes both cups the same - honey and a splash of half and half. It’s how she likes it, anyway. 

“I like your house,” Sharon says after a few quiet minutes. 

“Me too,” Brenda says. 

Andy Flynn calls when Sharon’s in the shower. Brenda answers Sharon’s phone because it’s right there on counter. 

“Did you get him?” Brenda asks. 

“Yeah,” Flynn says. “He’s in booking now.”

“Good,” Brenda says. 

“How is she?” he asks.

“Oh, you know Captain Raydor,” Brenda says. “She’s a tough cookie.”

“I’ll come get her as soon as I’m done here,” Flynn says.

“Take your time,” Brenda says.

oooo

Brenda goes to strip the bed in the guest room to find Sharon’s already done it, pulled the quilt up over the bare mattress and left the dirty sheets piled on top. She’d also left the borrowed pajamas. Brenda picks up the tank top and sniffs it, giving herself just a single moment of yearning before dropping the clothes on top of the sheets, picking up the whole bundle and dumping it into the washing machine. 

Three days later she receives a thank you note in the mail - a small card with an Edward Hopper painting on it. Inside are two sentences thanking Brenda for her hospitality during an emotionally fraught time. She'd signed it _S. Raydor_. 

Brenda sticks it to her refrigerator with a magnet and wears the red tank top to bed.


End file.
